Mistletoe Woes
by lovesbitca8
Summary: At the Ministry's Christmas Masquerade, the enchanted mistletoe branches are fun in theory... A grumpy Hermione resigns herself to standing alone and un-harassed, watching Draco Malfoy enjoy himself, and decidedly NOT thinking about what an excellent shag he'd been.
1. Chapter 1

**Merry Christmas darlings. This was my submission for the Strictly Dramione Yuletide Magic Festival 2018. Thanks to my Beta for this piece, MotherofBulls, for reminding me that this is a comedy.**

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Mistletoe was officially the worst holiday tradition, and Hermione made a solemn pledge to find the descendants of the Norwegian families that had deemed the parasitic plant a "romantic thing" and torture them. Slowly.

Hermione bumped her hip into the corner of the dessert table, bit back a groan at the spike of pain, and smiled politely at the couple standing nearby.

She looked up, and there it was again. Unholy little berries dangling like genitalia, leafy branches that would be better seen on a plate, and stem tied off with a merry little ribbon. Like it was a _gift to her_. She scowled. This particular branch had been following her around for the past half hour, dancing above her while she laughed with Harry, tickling her ear while she chatted with the Minister.

The Ministry's Christmas Masquerade was usually a huge success, and this year at an investor's mansion with lightly falling indoor snow and twinkling lights (and open bar) was no exception. But the exception was the mistletoe.

One of the decorators had decided that enchanting fifteen mistletoe branches to float about the grand ballroom encouraging couples and non-couples to share a holiday kiss was going to be "festive" and "enchanting."

It was not. It was taxing. Because the branches did not leave you alone until you kissed someone. In fact, they created quite a scene if you refused: descending and growing closer to you, poking at your temple, ribbon unwinding and tickling your ear. She actually watched one of the ribbons slither slowly around Neville's throat until he quickly kissed his supervisor, much to everyone's shock.

Hermione had now kissed thirteen of her coworkers, six men and seven women. She had four different colors of lipstick on her mouth now.

The upside was that she got to watch as Harry and Ron experienced their first cold, tight-lipped kiss. It was hilarious. But it also meant that no one really hung around each other for too often.

Except Draco Malfoy. Who had no shortage of young witches hovering around, waiting for the dead leaves to float over to them.

She glared in his direction, rubbing her hip where there was sure to be a bruise. Even with his black mask settled over the bridge of his nose and eyes, he _glowed_ with his platinum hair. Like a beacon for desperate, randy young witches.

Of which… Hermione had been one.

She cringed at the memory… and ignored the heat in her stomach.

It had been the Ministry's Halloween party, and after the seventh person had asked her how Viktor was (and would he be coming later? and isn't this the off-season?), she had consumed her seventh martini and found herself tucked into a corner with a blonde vampire with grey eyes and warm hands. She had been dressed as an Angel. A costume that would have perfectly complemented her boyfriend's Devil costume… had he not broken up with her the day before.

So now, Hermione sipped _slowly_ from her champagne glass, wincing at the memory of how she hadn't had the sense to stop Draco Malfoy's hand as it wound its way under her dress and onto the back of her thigh. It wasn't until he brushed the seam of her knickers, ghosting right over the place she wanted him most that she'd come back to herself. She had jumped, pulled her mouth from his, released the shoulder of his costume cape, retrieved her fingers from his hair, and excused herself to the restroom. She ran past the lavatory doors and out into the night, flagging the Knight Bus and heading home, Angel wings a bit worse for wear.

She didn't remember much of how they'd gotten to that point, only that he'd told her he liked her costume. He hadn't mentioned Viktor, like everyone else had. And when she stumbled a bit, he'd caught her elbow, asking if she wanted him to Apparate her home.

She bit her lip, tearing her eyes off a strawberry-blonde girl that giggled as she pointed up to a mistletoe branch above Malfoy's head. Hermione searched the room for her friends, finding Harry and Ginny standing quite a distance away from Ron and Lavender. About an hour ago, Ginny had to watch Harry kiss Lavender when one of the mistletoes poked him in the eye after ten minutes of being ignored. Hermione chuckled at the scowling between the couples. Hermione had escaped after kissing Harry and Ginny at separate occasions, but she wasn't sure her tentative friendship with Lavender would survive a mistletoe kiss with Ron.

So now she hovered by the dessert table, picking at the sweets bowl, ignoring the mistletoe bumping her temple and zapping it with a freezing spell whenever it got a bit too rowdy with her. A sandy-haired bloke with a red mask grabbed a biscuit next to her, and paused when he saw the mistletoe. He smiled down at her.

"Keep walking," she snarled.

He gaped at her, and then shuffled off.

She huffed. She had been successfully ignoring this branch for half an hour now, and it stood to reason that she could ignore it until the party ended. Or until she left. Which might be quite soon.

Her eyes drifted over to Malfoy again. He dipped his head, fingers resting lightly on the jaw of full-chested brunette as he pressed his lips against hers. She slid her hand up his chest, opening her lips. He indulged her before pulling away, with a smug grin.

Ugh. Hermione grabbed a biscuit, tearing her teeth into it.

She reached up to scratch her nose, finding the stupid lace mask in her way.

She bit her tongue in her frustration, which frustrated her more.

Perhaps it was time to go.

Malfoy had another mistletoe branch above his head, and Hermione turned away before watching a witch in a feathery mask tilt her lips up.

Hermione pressed her lips together, shaking her head at their stupidity. Malfoy was the biggest flirt the Auror Department had ever seen, and flirting wasn't usually where it stopped. There were too many "Out of Order" signs placed suspiciously around the supply closets and bathrooms on Level 2. Too many witches smiling brightly at three in the afternoon, reapplying their lipstick. Too many whispers at the cafe counter of "how many times did you—?" and "never been twisted that way" and " _need_ to do that again."

But as far as Hermione could tell, no one got a second ticket to ride. She always saw him in the Atrium with a new witch, in the _Prophet_ with a different one, and none of them were ever repeated.

Well… not unless you counted...

Hermione shook her head, sipping at her glass as one of his witches gestured that he could follow her down this corridor right over here, and bring that thing in your trousers, won't you?

Hermione stopped herself. And put her glass down.

Her _point_ was that these dim-witted girls all thought they could get a second date out of him, or perhaps a Malfoy diamond after enough time. She just laughed. The only thing they'd get was an evening of great sex.

Excellent sex, actually.

Reality-altering.

The mistletoe stem dipped into her ear canal and she bat it away. When she swept back her hair and rubbed her brow, she found her mask in the way again. Snarling, she ripped it off and stomped it into the floor.

Masks and mistletoes. What a fucking nightmare.

"Oops!" A merry voice next to her. "Keep your mask on. It's not quite midnight yet!"

The plump and cheery office secretary bent to pick it up for her. She stamped her foot on it.

"Leave it."

The woman glanced up at her, and straightened. "Oo! You have a little mistletoe on your shoulder! Should I find you fellow to kiss—?"

"Fuck off, Mary," Hermione hissed.

Mary gasped, and waddled away with a series of "well, I never!" and "whatever happened to the holiday spirit?"

Hermione glared after her, until she felt a warm hand brush the small of her back.

"Alright, Ebenezer?"

She looked up to find Malfoy grinning down at her. She hated that his mask brought out the bright spots in his eyes.

"Hello, Malfoy."

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" He sipped his glass and his eyes drifted down her neck.

"My mask was bothering me."

"Well, I'm glad it's gone now," he hummed.

"Couldn't recognize me?" she teased.

"Oh, of course. I know those clavicles anywhere."

She looked up at him. His eyes danced over her face, dropping low.

She wore high-collared blouses to the office, never one for flaunting anything. So, he could only be talking about…

She looked away, pressing a hand to her chest self-consciously.

It had been a week after Halloween. The _Prophet_ had printed a picture of Viktor and his new girlfriend, and one of the many people who swung by her office was Malfoy. But unlike the others, he didn't mention it. He asked her a few questions about her latest cases, letting the conversation drift into other topics, non-work related, as their coworkers headed home.

Her eyes had landed on his mouth as he spoke, and she had to fight to keep her gaze off his long fingers. When the lights dimmed, indicating that it was eight o'clock and employees were to head home, he kissed her. She had gasped into his mouth, dragging him closer. When he began kissing her neck, she pulled back and in some fit of genius, said, "Viktor and I broke up."

He breathed hotly against her face and said, "I wouldn't have cared either way."

She climbed him after that. Fully wrapped herself around him like one of his randy witches, expecting him to bend her over her desk, flip up her skirt, and pummel her for a breathless six and a half minutes.

Instead, he set her down on the edge and dropped to his knees, prying her legs apart, running his hands up her thighs smoothly and slipping her skirt up around her waist. Later, she had been thankful they'd waited until after hours, because she had screamed when she came, completely lost to the world. She had still been coming back into her body when he opened his trousers and pressed into her slowly.

She had closed her eyes and held on tight as he rocked into her. When he connected their mouths again and she tasted herself on him, she wrapped her legs around him, beginning to wonder about the slow pace he set. He gasped into her mouth, and his hands threaded into her hair.

Maybe because they had time. Maybe because they weren't in a bathroom stall at 10:30 in the morning on a Tuesday. Maybe he had a routine for recently-cheated-on-witches where he gave them a pleasurable, almost-love-making experience.

He sucked a bruise against her skin, and started opening her blouse, his hips pounding into her in a steady rhythm. He pushed all her files off the desk behind her, and laid her back. She arched her back and gripped the edges of her desk as he continued thrusting into her while undressing her with warm fingers, letting his thumbs slide over her nipples.

She came two more times. Once while he pushed her leg up to her chest with his mouth on her naked breasts, sucking painfully against her, and then, with his forehead pressed against hers as he laid over her on the desk, snapping his hips, fucking her against the wood. He'd whispered, "Hermione," and she'd opened her eyes, watching his grey ones as he heaved air against her face, and she'd come when he pressed hard on her clit. She'd screamed and scratched at him and he'd kissed her lips groaning into her mouth as he came inside of her.

They'd gotten dressed and he'd kissed her goodbye as they went home for the weekend. By Monday she'd come to terms with the idea that she'd had an excellent rebound with Draco Malfoy, and he would now be moving on to a different girl this week, as was his style. So, she'd nodded at him in the Atrium with Vanessa by his side, smiled at him across the office with Olivia's hand on his arm, and she'd chatted with him in the lifts as Maisie's eyes swallowed him whole.

She'd seen him exiting a supply closet with Eliza a week after that. And he was spotted at Muggle club with a German girl the following weekend.

And now he stood next to her at the Ministry Masquerade, reaching around her for a fudge piece, steadying himself on her waist. As if he needed the balance.

"I couldn't help but notice, Granger," he said, "that you have a mistletoe targeting you."

The mistletoe took the opportunity to jingle in front of her face at that exact moment, and began to wind its ribbon around Draco's shoulder. She could have sworn that one had teeth.

"I'm ignoring it. Stupid tradition."

"Ah." He popped the fudge between his lips.

"I'll be filing sexual harassment charges against the decorator. I've kissed far too many coworkers tonight."

"Any contenders?"

She looked up at him. He pulled his fingers between his lips, sucking off the melted fudge.

"No," she said, rolling her eyes. "Half of them are women anyway."

He cleared his throat. "Really?" he sang.

A second mistletoe branch floated towards the two of them. It stopped near the first.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Hermione moaned. She turned her eyes back on him. "What about you, Malfoy? Which of your mistletoe kisses are you going home with?"

"Haven't quite decided," he hummed as a third mistletoe branch bobbed towards them. "Maybe I haven't kissed the right witch yet."

She scowled as three more branches danced in their direction. "How is that possible? You've snogged every witch here by now, I'm sure."

"Not every witch –"

"Are you doing this?" She spun on him, pointing to the seven or eight mistletoe hovering over them. "Are they here for you? This is your fault."

He raised his brows innocently. "Me? I'd say it's the decorator's _fault_ , Granger. They're probably just looking for two people who haven't kissed yet."

She frowned up at the tree parasites. She turned to find him smirking at her, rolled her eyes, and stood up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, just below his mask. She looked up. None of the mistletoe moved.

She growled and repeated the action, kissing his lips this time. She pulled away before the kiss could turn into anything else and glared up at the branches to see one of them separate and float away. One.

"What?" Hermione squawked. Two more branches began to float towards them. "One kiss per mistletoe?! That's insane!"

Malfoy chuckled. "You know, Granger, if you don't take care of this soon, you're going to have a line of blokes forming."

She bit into another dessert and spoke around the crumbs. "Oh, please, Malfoy. No one's going to line up to kiss me."

"Not with jam tart in your mouth, no." He reached up and brushed a crumb away from her mouth. "And not while I'm here, first in line."

She blinked up at him, trying to find his meaning behind his masked eyes.

"Would you like to find a quiet corner where I can rid you of these mistletoes, Granger?" he whispered, his hand still on her jaw.

She swallowed. She thought of the stories she'd heard from the other girls about quick, rough fucks in small corners. She thought about the day she'd walked into the ladies' room to the sound of moaning and two pairs of feet in one stall, both pairs facing the same direction as Malfoy probably pressed the witch against the stall, hiked up her dress, kicked her ankles apart, and twisted her hair around his fingers as he pushed into her from behind. She thought of being bent over her desk, pinned against a supply closet door, groped in a lift.

She tried not to dwell on the idea of Malfoy wanting her a second time. Third? Did he count Halloween?

A sharp pinch to her ear. "OW!" She turned her face up to the demonic branch and thought for sure she could see fangs on that one. She frowned, and looked back to Malfoy, still waiting for her answer.

"Yeah, alright."

His eyes burned over her face, mouth pulling into a grin, and his tongue swiftly wet his lips.

"Come on."


	2. Chapter 2

He took her hand, and turned them to a corridor where no one was lurking. She followed behind him as he dragged her forward. She heard voices behind several doors, some moaning, some just whispering, and she barely had a moment to wonder if this wasn't a bit inappropriate for a Ministry gathering when he turned them down a dark corridor and pressed her against a wall.

Fifteen mistletoe branches followed like little ducklings.

He ran his hands over her hips, and dipped his head to kiss her. Softly at first. He pulled back, and she looked up to see one mistletoe bob away. Before she could count the rest, he pulled his mask off and placed his hand on her face again, pulling her mouth back to him. He parted her lips and tasted her, thumb brushing her cheek.

She sighed into his mouth when he pulled back again, and she didn't even check if another branch floated away. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he stepped closer to her, pressing his hips to her. He moaned when her tongue slipped against his, and she moved her hands into his hair. He pulled her body flush with his, cradling her head in one hand, the other arm around her back.

When he moved his mouth across her jaw, lips sucking on her neck, she opened her eyes to see four mistletoe branches still left. She didn't pull him back to her mouth. She didn't count anymore. She'd let him decide when he wanted to stop and head back to the party. _If_ he wanted to head back.

She moaned when he attached his lips to the skin above her clavicle, and he grabbed her backside in both hands. She thought he would lift her up, press her back into the wall, and start to take her right there. He didn't. He continued to suck at her neck, squeezing her ass.

She grabbed his head and directed him back to her lips. His tongue pressed into her slowly, like they had time. Like they weren't in the open, with a party around the corner, and several enchanted branches weren't suspiciously leaving the area they were in, like breadcrumbs.

He ran his hands up her ribs, barely touching her as his mouth worked against hers. He groaned against her when she pulled his bottom lip between her teeth.

She thought that would work. She thought he'd turn her around, press her into the wall, and pull up her dress.

He didn't. His tongue delved back into her mouth, drinking her in.

She ran her hands down his chest to his trousers, reaching and cupping him. He sighed into her mouth and pressed forward into her hand and whispered, "Perfect," against her lips.

When she unbuttoned him, he finally pulled back, pressing his forehead into hers and heaving against her face. He grabbed her hands, looked up and down the hallway, and pulled her behind him as he opened a few doors. He passed closets and office rooms and bathrooms, closing each door once he'd looked inside.

"Malfoy, what are you –"

"There's a bedroom down here. I know there is."

"Take many witches in the downstairs bedroom of the Goddard's Mansion?" she teased.

"All mansions built in the 1200s have ground floor guest rooms."

"Of course. How silly of me to forget." He shut another closet door. "We don't need a bedroom," she huffed.

He opened the door to a spacious bathroom, and before he could close it, she barreled her way past him, dragging him inside and shutting the door behind them. He looked around the room, frowning. She pushed him against the closed door and kissed him again. Both of his hands cradled her face while she unbuttoned his dress shirt.

Her fingers dragged across the skin of his chest, loving the way his stomach heaved with each breath. When she pulled at his belt, he lifted her off the ground, hands on her waist. She laughed at the breathless feeling.

He walked them back and dropped her on the edge of the sink. Wrapping her legs around him, she smiled into his neck, kissing his jaw. He pushed up her dress, up over her knees, and skated his hands up her thighs, his thumbs brushing the soft skin there.

He spread her legs further, pulled back from her, and dropped to his knees, tugging her hips closer to the edge.

"Wait, no—" She grabbed his shoulders. "You don't have to. I'm ready."

He looked up at her, blinking. "What?"

"I already know how good you are with your mouth, Malfoy." She laughed a raspy sound and pulled him up to her again. "I won't take long, I promise."

He opened his mouth, brows pulling together, and she kissed him before he could argue. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, devouring him.

She unbuttoned his trousers, and gripped him before he could say another word. He sighed into her mouth, and pulled her hips to him.

When he pressed into her, she moaned before he was even fully inside. He dropped his forehead to her neck and started a slow pace. She squeezed her thighs around him, keeping him close, and when she started rolling her hips, inviting him in, he whispered something against her chest.

"More," she groaned.

He kissed her again, grabbing one of her knees to press her closer. She reached behind her and found the zipper on her dress, trying to drag it down. He must have seen her in the mirror, because then he was helping her, prying the fabric from her torso and dragging his fingers over her breasts.

"Hermione," he huffed against her cheek, and she shivered, squeezing him.

He groaned and his hips moved faster. His hand moved between them, fingers circling her clit and she gasped, clutching at his hair. Something drumming inside of her, his cock dragging against her walls as they tightened, and he pressed on her clit with strong even strokes. She came with a yell.

He continued on her clit, slowing down his thrusts.

"No. Faster," she wheezed.

"Gonna make you come again."

"You don't have to." She kissed his lips and pulled his hips toward her. "Just finish. We have to get back."

He paused, still hard inside of her. "Come home with me then."

She pulled back and looked at him, puffing hard on his face. "What?"

"Come home with me, and I'll take my time with you tonight."

She lifted her brow. The idea was tempting… but Draco Malfoy didn't "take his time." And certainly never took girls home. She pressed her lips together and teased, "You don't want that. There might be cuddling. And you know you'll have to make me breakfast in the morning-"

"Alright."

She stared at him, brows pulling together while one of his hands found her breast again.

"Really?" She eyed him critically.

"Well, I'll order it in." He smiled down at her, starting to move within her again. "French toast or something."

"Oh, no then," she hummed, teasing. "Just finish yourself off quick. I won't go home with you for anything less than scrambled eggs made by Draco Malfoy himself."

Maybe they could stay here just a bit longer… If he kept doing _that_ to her clit, he could take all the time he wanted. What truly was waiting for her at the party except fifteen feral mistletoe?

"I'll need to have the carton of eggs delivered, if that's okay."

She laughed, and gasped when he thrust deep. "What else will you make me?"

"We'll have leftover eggnog—"

"Fresh eggnog. You're ordering a new carton anyway."

" _Fresh_ eggnog." He punctuated with a thrust that had her biting her lip. "And I suppose if someone was willing to wake up early with me, she could show me how to make French toast."

"Someone is not. Someone plans to be bonelessly exhausted after you make her come seven more times tonight." She smiled into his chest.

" _Seven_. Merlin, Granger." He sucked at her neck, digging his fingers into her hips.

"Yes, these are"—she gasped—"these are the requirements for me coming home with you, Malfoy. You may want to rethink your priorities."

"I better get to work, then," he brushed across her ear, tilting her backwards until her shoulders and head pressed against the mirror.

The change of direction made her moan and he rubbed at her clit slowly, matching the pace of his hips.

"Faster, please."

He didn't listen to her, but pressed her thigh back to her chest, leaning over her. He sucked at her chest, licking patterns over her breasts that had her squirming. She leveraged the mirror behind her head to arch her chest toward him, bowing her back and tilting her hips.

When she started to climb again, and he still hadn't increased the speed of his thrusts, she huffed and said, "Is there a reason you won't fuck me like your other girls?"

His hips stuttered and stopped. His eyes met hers over her chest where his lips were sucking on her breast. A _pop_ as he released the skin.

"What?"

"Looking for a bed? Wanting me to come home with you? Do you think I'm delicate, or something?" she growled. "My breakup was months ago. I don't need to be treated like glass."

Spots of pink popped high on his cheekbones, and he said, "I don't think you're delicate—"

"Then why won't you fuck me?" she grumbled.

He pushed his hair back and slid out of her with some effort. His cock was leaking, and she regretted doing this when he'd been so close.

He met her eyes, and looked away before asking, "What do you want me to do differently?"

"I want you to treat me like your other girls—"

"You're _not_ like the other girls!"

She stared at him, and pulled her dress up over her chest, feeling very naked all of a sudden.

Eyes drifting to the bathroom tiles, she whispered, "I know I may not be as… promiscuous as the others. Or as forward. But I can still be fucked in a bathroom stall at 10:30 in the morning. Or in one of the supply closets. I can be adventurous, Malfoy," she grumbled.

He was silent for a moment, and she didn't dare look at him, until he said, "I don't want that with you." He looked away from her, running his hand through his hair again, and she felt like there was an insult in there somewhere until he continued.

"I don't want to fuck you during the day, when it has to be quick," he said, shaking his head at the floor. "Or drag you into a closet where I can't see you naked, see you spread out." He looked up at her, voice raising as he said, "And I don't want to wait for the next office party to have an excuse to offer you a good time. I don't want to have to _bribe the decorator_ to bring in fifteen fucking mistletoe just so I can try to kiss you again!"

Her face flushed and she yelled, "I don't want that either! I hate those fucking mistletoe!"

"So, just come home with me!"

"I don't want _breakfast_ —"

"Then date me!"

" _Date_ you?"

"Yes!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Let's go get dinner!"

"WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO FEED ME?"

"I'M NOT TRYING TO FEED YOU! I'M TRYING TO DATE YOU!"

She panted, feeling faint. She watched him do the same.

"Since when?"

"I guess... since Halloween."

"Oh bullshit, Malfoy," she hissed and jumped off the counter. "You've been carrying on with other girls just fine since then. Perfectly content to live that bachelor life." She tugged up her dress, trying to zip it back up. She didn't know what game he was playing, but she didn't want to play.

"I... yes, I have been seeing people since Halloween," he said, and Hermione snorted. "But I wanted to see you again. More than anything." He grabbed her elbows before they could dislocate at their current angle, still struggling with her zipper. "Since that night in your office, Hermione—"

She jumped at the use of her name outside of whispered grunts and growls of pleasure.

"Please, Malfoy," she spat. "Don't pretend you've been pining for me." She tore her arms from his grasp and bent to pull one of her heels back on. "You moved on pretty quickly if I remember. Her name was Vanessa, wasn't it? In Accounting?"

He blinked at her, and she sent him a smirk, catching him bluffing.

" _I_ moved on? _You_ were the one too ashamed to even speak to me after it happened."

She felt her jaw drop. " _Ashamed!_ I took it for what it was! A great one-night stand. The only thing I'm ashamed about is that I'm now roped in the same category as the Vanessas of the world, and the Maisies, and Elizas, and Roxannes, and Mirandas—"

"And what category would that be?" he snarled back at her.

"Draco Malfoy's slags."

She gave a mighty tug on the zipper, feeling the teeth come together all the way to the top, and turned to the door, ignoring the wooden expression on his face. She wrenched open the bathroom door and found fifteen mistletoe branches bobbing happily before her eyes.

"ARRGHH!" she screamed, grabbing one from the air and tearing it into pieces, berries flying to all sides, leaves crunching between her twisting fingers. She threw it on the ground, spiked another one into the wall, batted away the others, and stomped back to the party.


	3. Chapter 3

The nerve of him. He hadn't spoken to her privately once since the night in her office, and now he wanted a relationship?! After watching him flirt with every other woman – and _hearing_ him do more than flirt from the other side of closed doors – how in Merlin's name was she supposed to trust him?

She only felt a modicum of guilt remembering that she had gotten off and he hadn't. Well, she was sure there would be a crowd of witches awaiting his return. He wouldn't be lonely for long.

Hermione swerved her way back toward the entrance, ready to grab her coat and head home, but first, she ran into the Minister who delayed her long enough for the mistletoe branches to catch up to her.

"My! Someone hasn't been doing nearly enough mistletoe kissing this evening!"

She glared behind her at the line of bobbing branches and saw Malfoy returning to the ballroom, smoothing his hair, cheeks still flushed in that very becoming way—

"Yes, they've been quite a bother this evening, Minister," she replied, tearing her eyes off him as a "Vanessa" bounced over to him. "I'm doing my best to ignore them. Don't want any inappropriate moments between coworkers." She smiled up at him.

"Oh, nonsense! It's the spirit of the season!" the minister cheered. Hermione lifted a brow. "Carl! Carl!" She looked to find the Undersecretary to the Minister, a handsome young man in a blue mask, trotting over. "Miss Granger is in need of a mistletoe kiss. Several it seems!"

The Minister smiled, patted his round belly, and gestured that Carl should do the deed.

"You're under no obligation, Mr. Undersecretary, thank you—" Hermione tried.

"It would be my pleasure, Miss Granger." Carl smiled at her, hazel eyes taking in her face, her neck, down to her chest and back up again.

Hermione blinked at him. Wow. Where had _he_ come from?

She nodded, letting him press his lips firmly to hers, fingers light on her jaw. When she opened her eyes, she looked up, finding one satisfied mistletoe dancing away, looking for another victim.

"Thank you, Carl," she said, batting her lashes at him.

"You have several more there…" He nodded at the ten branches having their own little disco party above her head. She noticed that the one she tore up had joined the party, tiny pieces hanging around the edges.

Hermione chanced a glance over at Malfoy. His silver eyes cut across the room, glaring certain death to Carl. The Vanessa had vanished.

Oh, how delicious.

"I would hate to ruin the 'spirit of the season,' as the Minister said." Hermione smiled coyly at the Minister, who was rocking on his heels with the glee of playing matchmaker. "Thank you very much, Carl,"—she winked at him—"but Minister, do you think you could find a dozen or so unattached young men who might be able to help me with these mistletoe?"

And that's how Hermione found herself with a line of blokes, ready to kiss her. Just as Malfoy had predicted earlier in the evening.

She'd check in with him every so often, seeing him watching her, surly and sipping at his scotch. An Olivia would wander over and try to talk to him, and he'd smile, whisper something to her, and she'd pout and walk away.

Hermione frowned, and turned to Fernando, or Maxwell…. whoever. He was nineteen and eager and when he pulled Hermione in for a kiss, he wrapped his arm around her waist and let his lips trace across hers, teasing with his lips parting. Nineteen-year-olds. Always trying to prove something.

She actually blushed when he pulled away, letting his hand slide away from her back, around her waist and down to her hip. His bright blue eyes drifted down her face to her lips as he thanked her for the opportunity, and Hermione was suddenly very aware that she hadn't had an opportunity to truly calm down after her romp with Malfoy in the bathroom.

She bit her lip and said, "My pleasure," feeling her face heating and her chest flushing.

When he moved away, she giggled to herself. Maybe she should thank Malfoy for arranging for these mistletoes to attack her. She'd had more action tonight than she'd had all year.

Once the last of the line had had their turn on her lips, she thanked the Minister for his assistance. It was almost midnight, and though no one really cared about the unmasking judging from the many people who had already removed theirs, she knew most people would start leaving at 12:01.

Malfoy had disappeared from his corner sometime between Barney from Magical Games and Sports and Connor from Accidents and Catastrophes. Both had been light and delicate with her, tracing their fingers across her jaw and pulling away after their one kiss.

She headed to grab her coat, bidding a goodnight to Harry and Ginny when she passed. Ginny tried to get her to spill about the line of men she had just indulged, and Hermione promised to tell her tomorrow at the Burrow. She didn't find a blond head in the crowd, so she assumed Malfoy had disappeared with one of his witches.

Good.

He needed to get off. And she needed to forget that his stupid idea had ever crossed his lips.

The coatroom at a party like this was just an expandable closet that you presented your ticket at. No attendant, the coat just floated out to you once you flashed your ticket. Hermione approached, digging her ticket out of a concealed pocket in her dress where she kept her wand, and flashed the ticket into the room.

She waited. Nothing.

She rolled her eyes and drew her wand. " _Accio_ Hermione Granger's coat."

A rustling in the back corner, behind a few lines of coats. It must be stuck on something.

Hermione entered the closet, heading in the direction of her struggling coat. She pushed through trench coats and stoles and gauzy scarves. In the corner of the room she cast another _Accio_.

"Looking for this?"

She jumped, finding Draco standing behind her with her coat.

He smirked at her.

"Yes, thank you." She held her hand out for her coat, feeling his eyes drinking her in.

She watched him step forward, heart beating fast.

"Turn around, Granger."

There was, of course, a very high possibility that he simply meant to place her coat on her shoulders for her. She tried to convince her lungs of that as she turned, facing the wall…

A moment hanging on the end of a string, and then fingers at her wrists, tracing up her arms, curving over her elbows. She took a calming breath, feeling his exhale on the back of her neck. His fingers continued up to her shoulders, swirling around and back down, drifting over the soft skin inside her arms, before taking her wrists and planting them on the wall in front of her, over a fur coat.

"Is this what you want?" he misted over her temple, pressing his body against her back.

"Yes," she hissed.

He pressed his mouth under her ear, and she tilted her head to give him her neck. She heard his buckle clicking open, then felt her dress being gathered up to her waist. Her knickers dragged down her thighs to hang around her knees.

He kicked her ankles open, just like she imagined, and she sighed before he'd even touched her. He sucked at her jaw, his teeth scratching over her skin, and her chest heaved.

His hands dragged up the back of her thighs until he held her backside in his hands, squeezing, fingers prying her apart, and sliding through her wet center. She gasped into the fur coat.

"Did you get riled up letting those blokes snog you, Granger?"

She turned her head, meeting his dark eyes and said, "Did you?"

He smirked and she felt him position himself at her entrance. She sucked in air, closing her eyes. He pressed a hand between her shoulders, and she leaned forward into the wall, hips angling toward him.

When he pressed inside of her, she heard him exhale an airy sound, and she opened her mouth wide, silencing a moan. She felt her toes curl inside of her shoes.

Merlin, it was different like this.

He moved his hands, slipping around to her hips, and pressed in further. Now, she did moan out loud.

 _Very_ different.

She and Viktor had a few nights of the rougher variety, a few roleplaying escapades, a few times trying not to be caught in public.

But this…

She felt his hipbones pressing against her ass, and she turned her forehead toward the fur coat, biting her lip.

This was…

He rolled his hips, shallow thrusts, hitting places inside of her she didn't know she needed to be _hit_. His rhythm was faster than their previous times, already a steady snapping, his hands wrapped around her waist, thumbs pressed into her low back. He pulled her back onto him, and she braced herself on the wall, already feeling something swirling inside of her.

A coat smacked both of them in the face.

He paused behind her, and the two of them watched as a wool coat sailed through the room toward the door. They were still hidden behind several rows, but there was someone only twenty feet away, waiting for his coat.

One hand left her hip, and Malfoy pulled his watch up to his face. "Past midnight, Granger. You'll have to keep quiet now."

And he thrust into her deep. She squeaked and pressed her lips together, breathing hard through her nose.

He grabbed her elbows, pulling her hands off the wall, and pulled her arms behind her, snapping his hips against her ass, bending her spine.

"Oh, fuck," she moaned, throat clicking around her uneven breath.

Another two coats flew past them, and Hermione bit down on her lip, climbing, climbing.

She heard drunken laughing from the party, several people at the door, waiting for their coats.

This was _filthy._ This was getting fucked by Draco Malfoy in a closet. This was—

Her walls clenched, tightening around him, orgasm coming on so quick she didn't even have time to close her mouth before yelling "Oh, my god!" into the fur coat in front of her.

He fucked her through it, keeping his pace even, tugging her arms back until he'd caught both elbows in one hand. He grabbed her hair with the free hand and dragged her face away from the coat.

"Were you saying something, Granger?" he hummed against her cheek.

She couldn't stop moaning. Little pops of noise on each breath, panting quickly, trying to catch her breath.

"Shh." He chuckled. "Quiet now, love."

His fingers tightened in her hair, and something about the angle, the way his hips barely left her ass as he pistoned in and out of her…

Her legs shaking.

Her fingers curling around the back of her own dress as he held her there.

She squeezed him again. A warning almost. She gasped, feeling her stomach tightening again, warming.

"Oh, my—"

He dragged her mouth to his, swallowing her screams as she came again, tears swelling in her eyes at how _good_ it was. How right.

He fucked her with his tongue, biting her lip, bruising her lips. His teeth clashed on hers and she felt his rhythm stutter as she floated back down.

The coat in front of her that had muffled her screams earlier zipped away.

It was time to finish. Too many people were leaving. Soon it would just be the two of them in this room, clearly visible. Malfoy didn't seem to think anything of it though.

He released her arms. They shook as she moved them back to the wall, leaning heavily on them when he released her mouth.

He stepped back, pulling her hips with him, lowering her a bit. He kicked her legs out again, wider, lower. And the spread made her thighs tremble.

He pushed back in, setting a pace that told her he would be finishing soon. She was so relaxed, muscles barely complaining, just loving the drag of his cock inside of her. He tugged her hips back onto him over and over and she felt like a doll, bouncing, bouncing.

He heard him heaving air, heard the guests saying "oh, no, after you," giving their tickets to the room.

She smiled against her arms. And just as she wondered if he counted this as their third time or their fourth, one of his hands slid around under her dress, and found her clit.

"Oh, god," she murmured. "Malfoy, you don't have to..."

But he was insistent.

This was what she wanted. This was what she'd signed up for. He'd tried to take her home. Tried to give her a bed and some breakfast to wake up to, and she'd turned him down. So, he'd done it her way.

His fingers twirled around her clit, electricity running through her veins. His other hand gripped her waist, slamming her back on him, his hips pounding forward into her. His tempo was failing, but he wouldn't stop until she…

She closed her eyes and relaxed.

He flicked at her, quick and firm in a way she remembered him doing in her office. The way she'd dreamed about for months.

"Come on, love."

She tensed, but needed more.

"Kiss me. Please, Draco."

He stuttered, fingers digging into her hip, and a dark sound groaning out of him. And she felt like he just held himself back from shooting into her.

"Draco?" she tried.

He pumped into her again, without his mind's permission.

He pulled out, turned her around carefully, and pushed her against the wall. She jumped up around his hips, and helped him re-enter her. She kissed him slowly, and he matched her.

He found her clit again, arm straining between their bodies. She moaned into his mouth, and once he'd found that rhythm with his fingers again, she whispered, "Thank you, Draco" against his lips.

He groaned into her, and pushed deep. He kissed her slowly, holding inside of her while he flicked at her clit, working her higher and higher.

Her hips started to buck, and he moaned "Hermione" into her mouth, pumping into her again, slowly.

Slowly, like he wanted.

She clenched around him, this time a slow ripple through her, spreading through her legs, trembling her toes, and all the while he kept flicking her clit. It lasted forever.

And at some point while she was gasping for air, feeling her orgasm rocking her, he pushed into her a few more times, kissed her mouth, and grunted as he came inside of her, her walls drawing every drop from him.

As she was still deciding if she was done, if her orgasm was finished, he began kissing her slowly. One peck at a time.

She opened her eyes suspiciously, and looked up, finding seven or eight mistletoe branches starting to dance away each time he kissed her.

She watched them float out of the closet.

"Gladys, I think someone's _snogging_ back there."

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back. "Oh god," she whispered.

"This wouldn't have happened if you'd just come home with me, Granger," he hummed against her lips.

"Okay."

He pulled back from her, staring into her eyes.

"Really?"

"Yes. All of these orgasms have left me quite peckish."

He smirked at her. "I planned that nicely, then."

She leaned in to kiss him again, hoping that she wouldn't regret becoming intimate with the Auror Department's biggest cad, but before their lips touched, the final mistletoe branch-the one she'd torn up into pieces-bit down on her neck with its hidden snarling teeth, exacting revenge for himself and his fallen brethren.

The End.


End file.
